


I've Been Quiet for Too Long

by Xyriath



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M, Noisy Sex, Porn with Feelings, Power Bottom James, Season/Series 07 Spoilers, but here we are, it was supposed to just be porn, pls update ur character tags AO3 so i can call him ryan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 16:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15710643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: James appreciates Kinkade's silence; it's somewhere he can escape to, for just a short time, as they remind themselves that they're alive in the only way they know how.But he thinks he might need more.  And he has no idea how to admit it—not to Kinkade, and not to himself.





	I've Been Quiet for Too Long

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on tumblr. I guess I have the dubious honor of adding the first-ever smut to the Kinkjames tag on AO3.
> 
> Edit: so apparently there are plenty more of y'all as thirsty for this ship as I am; if you'd like a link to the 18+ Kinkade/James Discord server, shoot me a tumblr DM at http://disastergayshirogane.tumblr.com/
> 
> EDIT Edit: Russian translation!!! https://ficbook.net/readfic/7572845
> 
> ;)

James Griffin has never backed down from a challenge.

Most of the time, Kinkade’s silence is a blessing.  After hours and days that stretch together with everyone having something to tell him, orders to give, questions to ask, the chatter and chatter and chatter blending into a white noise that sometimes just needs to—

Stop.

Kinkade’s fingers dig into James’s hips as he does just that.

Their ragged breaths are the only sounds in the small bedroom, cramped enough that it would have taken two of Kinkade’s strides to cross and three of James’s.  The bed is so tiny that the only reason the two of them both fit on it is that James is currently straddling Kinkade’s hips, hands on his bare chest, fingers curling into the give of those perfect pectorals.

It usually goes like this, barely—if any—words exchanged, an unspoken understanding that _they can’t talk about this_ , but that they both need it.  Kinkade will work James into a gibbering, yowling mess more likely than not, and they’ll both rut with each other until they can’t move.  James’s legs will eventually stop shaking, and he’ll dress and leave without either of them saying a word as their neighbors in the barracks pretend that they don’t see a thing.  The world is ending.  No one will begrudge them this.

But sometimes, silence is just too stifling.  Sometimes, after a loss like the one they’d had today, it clings and follows and weighs down every moment, every breath.

So this time, James wants to make Kinkade _scream._

“What are you doing?” Kinkade pants, nearly a growl, eyes locked on James.  James stays frozen for several more seconds, eyes studying the lines of that ungodly attractive face, drinking it in like a dying man.

“Enjoying myself,” James murmurs back, then rolls his hips.

Kinkade groans again, trying to jerk up into James, take him deeper, but James’s fingers quickly find the sharp hipbones beneath, pushing him back down into the mattress.

“No.”

Kinkade’s hips still, but he watches James almost warily.

James waits for him to settle, waits several more moments, _then_ began to move.

He lifts himself up off of Kinkade’s cock, uncharacteristically slowly; he isn’t sure he’s ever waited this long between thrusts.  He closes his eyes, taking the time to savor the sensation of the thickness sliding out of him, leaving him near-empty—

And then he sinks back down again, just as slowly, drawing a matching groan from both of their lips.

Though Kinkade tries to thrust upward once, twice more, James presses down with his hands at both attempts, and Kinkade finally seems to catch the hint.  Though he tightens his own grip on James’s hips, he lets James have control.

So James fucks himself, slowly, deeply; he refuses to allow himself the word _intimately._   But setting his own pace, and making it this one, leaves him shuddering.  Each time he sinks down, Kinkade stretches him open, the drag inside sending waves of pleasure rocking through him.  And with each movement, Kinkade groans again, first quietly, but growing in volume and what seems like it might be frustration.

When James finally opens his eyes, his stomach jolts in shock, the intensity of Kinkade’s gaze locked on him sending a ripple of unexpected arousal through him.  They burn with a singleminded hunger that James has never seen before, and especially not directed at _him._

He feels— _wanted._

It’s addictive, and he keeps his eyes open as he continues his slow, torturous movements, even teasing himself, refusing to give in to every cell in his body screaming for him to chase his own pleasure.  It’s driving both of them mad, yes, but is it ever _worth it_.

He arches, for no good reason other than that he can, showing off and watching Kinkade’s eyes devour him.  With every movement, Kinkade’s groans grow louder, and when his teeth bare in frustration, James offers a grin himself, wild and more than a little manic.

“You little _shit_ ,” Kinkade groans, and it’s the most control James has seen him lose in bed—the most control he’s _ever_ seen him lose.  He lets out a ragged laugh, increasing his pace, but not enough to make any tangible difference.

Kinkade’s hands slide around to grip James’s ass as he continues to tease, bringing them both closer to the promise of an orgasm without being _enough._   James can feel Kinkade shaking under him, his feet struggling to find purchase on the bed.  His own thighs are shaking as well, he realizes, weakening with the effort of keeping them along the edge for so long.  A drop of sweat tickles James’s temple, and his eyes fix on a matching one rolling down the side of Kinkade’s face.  He wants to lean in, wants to lick it off, wants to press their foreheads together and—

But no.  He can’t let himself think about that, can’t cross the line that they had wordlessly but clearly established.  Instead, he digs his nails into Kinkade’s lower abdomen, dragging them down across the sensitive skin over his hips.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Kinkade yelps, and James can _see_ him snap.  He surges forward, one arm wrapping around James’s waist, and before James realizes, his back is slamming against the sheets as he’s pinned to the bed.

“Fucking _hell_ —goddamn _tease—!_ ”

“And what’re you gonna do about it?” James challenges, the thrill of adrenaline coursing through him.

“You—know—exactly—what—” Kinkade pants, punctuating each word with a thrust so hard that James’s teeth rattle.  Still, it doesn’t shake his grin at all, the pleasure that edges just along the line of pain exactly what he needs.

Instead of replying, he arches up, locking his legs around Kinkade’s waist, and demands everything there is to give.

To James’s eternal satisfaction, Kinkade cries out as he plunges into James, filling him, using him, driving them both violently closer to their peak after so much time fettered.  The sounds fill the room, settling in James’s bones.

“Fuck,” he gasps, nails now digging into Kinkade’s back, and he wants to leave his mark, wants Kinkade—wants them _both_ —to remember this forever.  “Harder, god fucking dammit—”

“Shut up, James.”

The gasped word cuts through the riot of sensation, and James freezes once again.

James.  _James._   Not Griffin.  James.

Confusion, questions that are absolutely inappropriate for the situation, tumble through him.  Does he respond?  Does he reply with “Ryan”?  Does he ignore it and keep—

Their eyes meet, faces inches apart, breath mingling, and everything flees his mind and god, James wants, but he can’t; he wants, but they _can’t_ —

One of them, both of them, James has no idea, but _someone_ moves and their eyes are closing and their lips are meeting and they’re soft, so much softer than James had ever imagined—not that he’d ever allowed himself to imagine—and he knows he shouldn’t but he’s licking into Kinkade’s mouth and Kinkade is kissing him back and their bodies seal together and a roar of bliss crashes through both of them together.

James can’t think, can’t breathe, eyes sightless or closed or _something_ ; he doesn’t know—it’s never been like this before, the orgasm burning up everything left inside him with a ferocity he can only helplessly allow to take him.

Sound gradually begins to filter back into James’s reality.

They stay there, eyes closed, foreheads pressed together, for… James doesn’t know how long.  For enough time that their ragged breathing slows, that their heartbeats fall out of sync, that James’s legs stop their shaking.

And that’s his sign to go.

Don’t think about it, he tells himself, repeats to himself.  Don’t think about this.  Don’t make it more than it is.  You’re only asking for trouble.

Kinkade shifts, sliding out, leaving James more than empty.  Leaving him hollow.

They can’t both fit on the bed, he tells himself reasonably, and he shifts as well.  Kinkade rolls off, back pressed to the wall, and James rolls to the side, staring dully at the floor.

He should go.

But he doesn’t move, and neither does Kinkade, not to nudge him forward, usher him out.

So he doesn’t.

It’s several minutes before James feels Kinkade move again, and he braces himself for the hand on his back, maybe even the quiet, “You should go.”

But instead, one strong arm wraps around his waist, pulling him close, and as his back presses up against Kinkade’s warm chest, he can feel the tension bleed away slowly.

And the silence falls again, settling over the cramped room, the tiny bed that barely fits the both of them and leaves James vaguely concerned of what will happen if Kinkade lets go.

But this time, there’s a warmth to it, a heavy comfort, an unspoken… something, something that could be an understanding, maybe, if James could manage to understand it.

But it’s enough.

Slowly, more hesitantly than he’s done anything in a long time, he reaches down to place his hand over the back of Kinkade’s.  To his distant, exhausted wonder, it turns, and their fingers lace together.

James closes his eyes.


End file.
